The Handkerchief and the Doctor
by Everybody Lies1
Summary: Everyone thought that Sherlock Holmes was dead,but he's not!Watson is furious about not knowing sooner and tries to help his friend with his latest case.One that has a personal connection to Holmes and has been reaking havoc on his life.SH2 Spoilers!
1. Chapter 1

**OK, am I the only one who is in completely in love with SH2? I went to see it the day after it came out and it was glorious. I'm planning on seeing it again. =). In the mean time I'm writing this story to wet my appetite for SH3. Which there has to be!**

"Holmes!", cried a voice coming up the stairs of the apartment complex on Baker Street. It came once again, "Holmes!" The man had reached a certain door and flung it up with quite a bit of force. "I know you're in there!"

John Watson's eyes were met at once with the familiar apartment of Sherlock Holmes. Everything appeared the way at it so long ago. Not a thing had been changed, even with Holmes' aparent death. Watson had argued that they shouldn't hurry with dispersing out his friends objects and thus continued to pay rent for it. "Holmes!"

A figure darted out from a curtained room, Watson's old one. Rather unsteadily it should be added and much smaller than remembered. Brown eyes met blue, "It's sure good to see you, old boy."

Despite being furious just seconds later Watson had bounded to his friend and embraced him in a hug. Just as quickly as his mood had changed, it went back. In a flash he had pushed his friend away, Holmes grasped his sides which went unnoticed.

"I got _THIS _in the mail," Watson whipped out the oxygen device that he had received in the mail the day before.

"Ah, so you did get it. I was hoping you would. The mail's been off lately I've noticed."

"So you decided to deliver it yourself. Of course it was you! I-I thought you were dead!"

"Completely understandable considering the circumstances. I thought I was dead for a minute there, too. But luckily, because of that ingenious device I'm not."

"Don't you understand? This whole time everyone thought you were dead, were mourning you. And all the while you were simply lurking about...yes, I've noticed the question mark!"

"If you will allow me to explain-"

"I wish you would."

Holmes swallowed remembering those brown curls. " Surprisingly after taking a fall like that I received a few broken bones and extreme bruising. Thankfully I was able to find a local village, and apparently a wet waistcoat is worth quite a bit of money."

"My waistcoat."

"Which I will reimburse you on in the near future..."

Watson rolled his eyes.

"...Anyways, with the money I was able to secure the medical attention I needed and took a train and a boat back to London with simple hopings on and off and sneaking onto the boat. Of course seeing you and Mary where top on my list, then obviously Mycroft. But first I had unfinished business. I was in the search for a missing person and I was quite engulfed in it. Now obviously I was dressed in disguise for people thought me dead and staying at several seedy lodgings during my search. When I overheard of a funeral being held for Sherlock Holmes. I immediately realized how much time had passed and how I left you all in the dark. And you know the rest..."

"Oh, yes I do," Watson walked over to one of the armchairs and lifted up the suit Holmes had used to disguise himself on Watsons chair.

"Another fine example of my urban camouflage. It will be big someday, you wait."

"That's not the point, look at it! It's exactly the pattern of the armchair in my study. Where I was writing my eulogy for you. Obviously you were in my house for quite a while and you didn't seem in a hurry to make it known."

"I thought I was doing you a favor. I didn't just appear dramaticly like some ghost."

"You love dramatics."

"I do not. Not like that. So thus I sent you that device knowing you would know what it meant and I was just making sure that you would. Besides, that was a fine piece of writing, you should archive it for when the day does come." Holmes lit his pipe and started puffing at it nervously.

"I wrote when I thought you were dead, you shouldn't have seen it. And then you run off! You could have made yourself known then, that would have been the perfect time."

"Unfortunately I had a prior engagement that had to be kept. So I cut through the woods and hopped into one of those engined carriages."

"Driven by whom..."

Holmes glanced around nervously then folded, "Alright so I went and I saw Mycroft first. He understands these things, he's quite brilliant, lazy, but brilliant. Granted when he first saw me he punched in jaw, but after that he took it quite well."

"I just can't believe this. Tell me, what could have been so important than to abandon your friends and family? The Yard could've taken care of it."

"You know that they couldn't have."

"Why not..." Watson now noticed that Holmes had a strong grip around his torso, and was paler then pale,"...are you feeling alright."

"I'm alive, if that's what you mean," spat Holmes.

"I am happy you're alive, you do know I am. Despite my present anger I'm still here for you. As a partner and a friend."

"Let's not get sentimental now, Watson," though he still walked over and grasped his shoulder then quickly walked toward the window.

Watson stared at the back of his friends form, how skinny he had become, he felt it when he hugged him. But then again, this happened on nearly every case. "So tell me, why couldn't the Yard handle this one."

Without turning around Holmes responded, "I don't believe they know about it."

"What do you mean?"

The detective turned around and looked into his companions eyes, and Watson was surprised to see rage in them.

A distant memory of the month before flashed through Watson's mind. He remembered staring at the blood stained handkerchief embroidered I.A. Holmes' eyes meeting his, him getting up, smelling the item deeply and then tossing it into the sea.

How could he have forgotten.

**First chapter done! My first chapter of my first ever Sherlock Holmes story. I believe this is an important moment in history for me. (gets emotional). Oh and could this have been longer? I'm planning on making them longer but please tell me if the length was a problem.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:I do not own the franchise Sherlock Holmes, its characters, or its actors.**

**I would like to thank everybody for the awesome reviews! I'm also ecstatic that there will be a third Sherlock. Unfortunately...a 2 years wait!**

"It's her isn't it," said Watson.

"Wonderful detective skills, Dr Watson," snarled Holmes as he massaged his torso.

To Holmes she would always be _the_ women. But of course she had become more than just that, she had become his lover. And, on of the very few people Holmes had ever trusted, now she was gone.

"I had a fear after the train fiasco and on the ship to France. I just never thought that she was actually..."

"Well she's not."

"What?"

"I saw her on the day of your stag party and I could tell she had an agenda. But Irene's careful, she's an expert. There are many other reasons to explain the handkerchief Moriarty had given me."

"Moriarty gave it to you!"

"He said he killed her. He made some reference to a rare tuberculosis that over powered her in seconds, which I now realize he was talking about the poison. But how do I know he was telling the truth? That could have been someone else's blood, or hers for a different reason."

"You're sure of this?"

Holmes puffed several more times at his pipe.

"It's alright to be in denial," said Watson softly, "I do understand that-"

"I'm not in denial, because she's not dead. Admit it, there are too many variable to assume that Irene was killed by him."

"Think of it even more logically then. Don't you think Moriarty would want to tie up some loose ends? You did tell me that she had worked with him, even during the Blackwood case and after. Obviously he knew about her relationship to you."

"Do you even know who we are talking about," Holmes shuffled over and took a mouthful of a glass of clear liquid that was on the end table, "That woman is capable of great crimes, and physical agility, and I will assure you has been in tight situations before."

Watson eyed the glass suspiciously, "But she knew too much about his plans, don't you see? And I will admit Irene was," Watson got a death stare from Holmes, "is a very intelligent and street savory person. But this is Professor Moriarty we are talking about here, his brilliance exceeded even yours."

"One only has to check which ones dead and which ones alive to determine who is the more brilliant."

"Yes of course. Throwing yourself down a cliff with him was a genius plan...if it hadn't been for that oxygen device."

"I stowed it away knowing it would be valuable, and I spent my free fall contemplating exactly where and how I would fall in the water!"

"Contemplating or not it was still suicide. What are you drinking?"

"I don't know," he took another swig, " You sound as if you want her to be dead!"

"Don't say that! No I don't, I don't, I just don't know," Watson massaged his temples with his hand.

"Tired? I have something that can fix you right up, much better then coffee."

"I don't want any of your cocaine, Holmes! I've been up all last night, hell, for the past month worrying about you."

"How are things with Mrs. Watson?"

"We've had to cancel our honeymoon, but she blames you, not me."

"Wonderful."

Holmes placed the glass back on the end table with one last sip and started pacing about the room.

"Aren't you interested in my investigation so far?"

There then came a knock at the door. Holmes bounded to it and opened it, "Ah, look Watson, if it isn't the nanny," she placed the tray on the center coffee table.

Mrs. Hudson ignored him and turned to Watson, "Oh thank heavens you're back. Do calm down Mr. Holmes, these past couple of days he has been quite the disturbance!"

"Disturbance! The only true disturbance here is why I have you have been knocking three times a day!"

"To bring you your meals, you are skin and bones!"

"And what of my internal organs?"

She straitened up and looked about, "Shriveled by the looks of this place. Good to see you, Watson," she nodded at him as he gave her an apologetic smile. She left.

"Try to be nicer to her," pleaded Watson.

"Funny I thought I was," he sat down in one of the armchairs and rubbed his eyes, "Now where was I..."

"Your investigation. Have a bite first."

"After..."

"Holmes," threatened Watson.

Grudgingly Holmes picked up one of the sandwich slices and took a bite out of it, but to Watson's glare he took two more, "Satisfied?"

"Almost," next Watson picked up a cup of tea and handed it to him, "Drink."

Grudgingly Holmes did take several sips and then set it down.

"As you know Irene was safe so she choose a public place, this couldn't have been anywhere with many people. But the most formal seems to be a restaurant, for lunch, judging by the time of day by witch we departed. Then the question was what restaurant. Knowing Irene she would want it to be well known to her, familiar. My first conclusion was Irene's favorite restaurant, Verey's. So I traveled there..."

Holmes shifted uncomfortably in his seat and his arms once again went around his torso.

"...using my fine acting skills and overpowering one of the waiters I was able to disguise myself nicely. And was able to give several parties of people there seats. When the rushing income of people finally settled down, I was able to flip back in the large book of reservations for names. April was the month that we last parted to I turned back to that month. Both of their names where in there. An alias wouldn't work for they were too well known by people..."

Holmes got up to continue his speech while pacing but he stumbled to the ground. Watson quickly came over to him and started to help him up.

"Can you stand?"

"Yes, just a stumble."

Watson let go but he quickly had to help his friend stay upright again, "Come with me," Watson helped him onto the couch.

"Anyways after I had proved my theory that they had indeed met at that restaurant-"

"Not know. Take off your shirt," Watson opened up the bag he has brought with him.

"Why?"

"Don't act stupid."

"I assure I'm quite alright."

"I'm a doctor, Holmes, I notice things. Besides it's time for me to see how the Swiss did at patching you up."

Holmes narrowed his eyes but unbuttoned his shirt and slipped it off. His right shoulder was in bad condition, obviously the detective took it upon himself to take out the stitches but it still needed to be wrapped. Watson did. Next he examined the rest of his mid-section. Heavy bruising, _new_ bruising. Carefully Watson felt his ribs, bruised of course, and two, wait, three broken.

"Boxing?"

"I wouldn't exactly call it that."

From the bag Watson took at a brace and a bottle of morphine along with a syringe.

"I see you came prepared."

"I know you. How much pain are you in?"

Holmes eyed the drug hungrily, "Enough... broken ribs Watson!"

"What were you drinking?"

"I've mixed those two substances before it's fine," he held his mid section,"...please."

He put in only a small amount of the drug and wrapped Holmes' ribs to which he made a slight gasp. Next he secured a brace onto them.

"You can put your shirt back on. Now take off your shoe, you know which one," Holmes did both.

Watson examined his foot and saw that it looked alright and had healed quite nicely.

"You can put it back on." Just then Watson noticed some blood at the back of his friends neck, beneath his hair, "Did you get a concussion?"

"I feel fine."

Watson moved his finger in front of his friends eyes, he was.

"How's your eye," now that the sun was begging to come out he could see his friend clearer. Dark circles were seen below his undamaged eye.

"Alright. Are you quite done now, Doctor?"

"Yes. Did you purposely try to make friends with a medical man?"

"It was simply a convenient coincidence."

"Would you mind telling me what exactly happened?"

"That's the fun part," he glanced the clock on the mantle, "but we most be going now Watson!"

Holmes sprang up and motioned for his friend to follow him, Watson followed after him and while leaving he noticed Irene's picture was still in its same spot.

**There's chapter two! But I'm confused about something...where the people in the restaurant all working for Moriarty? Remember when he clanged a fork against his glass and they all left? What was that about? Anyways, I'm finally seeing SH2 again tomorrow...I'm excited!**


	3. Chapter 3

**It's been quite a while since I have posted the last chapter and I apologize. Things get crazy around the holidays. Although on the bright side I finally was able to see SH2 again tonight. Even better then the first time I saw it! I found I was able to notice more things and get a better look at the characters emotions. Anyways, here's chapter 3!**

They went out the back exit of the complex. Watson caught up to his friend and noticed he was wearing a fake beard once again along with rather large pair of glasses, _'It's so overt it's covert.'_ He smiled at his friends old words which he used on the night of the stag party. Or whatever that night was.

"How's your leg?" asked Holmes as he quickened the pace, "I've noticed you didn't bring your cane."

"It's in the carriage, but I'm fine."

"Hmm," once again he increased his speed.

"Do you mind telling me where we are going?"

"With pleasure. Do you remember Sebastian Moran?"

"How could I not. Moriarty's right hand man, I almost got killed by the bastard."

"Right you are, Watson. And as you know, he is still at large, possibly still doing Moriarty's dirty work."

"Possibly?"

"Most likely."

"Why? What could he possibly have to gain, Moriarty is dead and as is a large amount of his once vast fortune."

"Being Moriarty's right hand man that makes him second in command, he is now in charge of all of his old goons. With that power Moran can certainly get a considerable amount of work done. I suspect a new series of crimes will start soon, but right now he is preoccupied with something else."

Watson did not need to be told, "Revenge."

They continued walking at a fairly rapid speed until they stopped in front of Verey's, an upscale London restaurant.

Holmes motioned for him to follow him down an alleyway, "Precisely. Although Moriarty was certainly not a fatherly type, Moran looked up to him. He was everything that he wanted to be. Brilliant, cunning, powerful, and many other characteristics that he admired. There is also the fact that he was maintained in a comfortable lifestyle by Moriarty, which with his death, he has had to given it up."

They stopped at a dumpster, Holmes opened the lid, "Right," he turned to Watson.

"...I'm not going in there."

"It would certainly help if you would."

"No."

"I would appreciate it greatly."

Watson glared at him.

"I will forever be in your debt and will personally see to it that Mrs. Hudson thoroughly washes your clothes after this ordeal is over," he climbed into one side of the dumpster.

Watson sighed, "You're in my debt for a thousand forever's," he got into the other side of the dumpster with a grunt. "Ugh, the smell!"

"Brace yourself for it's only going to get worse," Holmes closed the lid and indeed it did get worse.

Already several minutes had gone by, "I think I'm going to pass out," said Watson.

"Do keep your voice down," hissed Holmes.

"How can you take it?"

"Apparently you, my friend, have never been to The Punch Bowl."

"The Pun- you were boxing again!"

"Hush down, someone's coming!"

They heard a door open and someone mumbling curses under their breath. Both men tensed and Holmes pounced up when the lid was opened. He had pulled in the young man who was emptying out the trash and clamped his throat into the crook of his arm. Watson didn't even need to clamp onto his nose and mouth for the man passed out almost instantly.

"Is that supposed to happen," asked Holmes.

"I think the stench got to him."

"Come, come, quickly now."

They both got out of the dumpster and dragged the garbage boy out of it, with a slight gasp from Holmes.

"You alright?"

"Never better," he fished in the dumpster and brought out a half full whiskey bottle, then he threw away the spilled trash and set the bin upright on the dumpster, "Grab hold of his other side, wait, wait, how could I have been so stupid."

From his coat he retrieved out a rather large fishermen's hat and another beard," Put those on, please...the beard is a bit tricky...right, there you are. Hold on, it's missing something...Ah," Holmes scooped up some dirt from the ground and smudged it all over Watson's face, "Perfect."

Once again Watson glared at him, but grabbed one of the man's sides and Holmes did the same, with the bottle of whiskey in the other hand. Together they dragged the man out into the street, "Henry, you sonsofabitch," slurred Holmes swigging the whiskey bottle when two gents stared at them.

Watson gave a drunk chuckle, "A real fine man you is, gettin' drunk at noon!"

Holmes motioned for Watson to enter a doorway, which was to none other then The Punch Bowl.

"Henry, you here," called Holmes.

"Yup," called a voice up to them.

Holmes and Watson carried the man down the stairs and placed him in a chair. "Do you have any rope?"

The man behind the counter reached down and brought some up, "Here ya' go."

"Thank you." Holmes tightly bound the man to the chair and unconsciously started to gently massage his shoulder but stopped at Watson's concerning look, "Allow me to introduce the real Henry," he motioned toward the man now cleaning several glasses behind the counter.

"How do you do", asked Watson.

"Alright, how 'bout yerself. Wait a second, I know you!'

"Oh, really?"

"Pleasure to meet ya' Doctor Watson, Holmes has only said good things about ya."

"Wish I could say the same . Are you okay with us having this man tied up down here?"

"Been seeing worse this past month with Holmes part time living under this roof."

"Wonderful, he's been boxing too then?"

Behind Watson Holmes was desperately motioning Henry to say nothing about it, although he did not get the message much to Holmes' dismay.

"Course he's been! Beats almost all of them, pretty impressive with that shoulder of his. He has to 'ave earned his rent somehow."

"Hmm," he turned around and crossed his arms at Holmes.

"Enough about me! On to this man, this vile man!" He went over and started tapping him on the face, when that didn't work the detective poured the whiskey on him, flies and all.

"Aah! Don't hurt me!"

"That depends on what you have to say."

"Who-who are you?"

"Not important. Well, important yes, but not in this situation."

"I'll give you anything, tell you anything, please don't hurt me!"

"Calm down, there's no need for hysterics. I simply need some information about the happenings of this April."

"Happenings? I don't understand."

"Come now, I don't want to get my hands dirty, they're dirty enough. Professor Moriarty. Now, does that ring a bell?"

The young man's eyes widened.

"He was a customer at your restaurant in that month, funny how the garbage boy can remember a single man coming once long ago."

He said nothing. Holmes slapped him across the face.

"Holmes!" shouted Watson.

"My apologies, it was the pain that did that slap, not me. You didn't happen to bring any morphine with you?"

"If you had told me how much-"

"Never mind, I'll be okay! Tell me, garbage boy, the events of that day."

"They'll notice I'm gone, people will be looking for me."

"You aren't some toddler, if anything is certain you will be out of a job by the end of this. Tell me what happened," he took out his gun and started to tinker with it. The man looked nervously at the gun.

"He knew the owner and manager of the restaurant. All three went to the kitchen and told us that if we told anyone about that day we would be killed."

"One of them are dead, two of them relatively unguided. Besides if you don't tell death will come knocking much earlier."

He gulped, "Moriarty didn't say anything he just grinned at all of us. The owner and manager informed us that all of the customers that day from opening time would be false customers that would leave on Moriarty's command, and when they did the restaurant would be closed for the remainder. Then they said that only one person had a real reservation and that was, um, this woman. I think her name was Ira Adams or something?"

"Irene Adler?"

"Yes, that's it! They said that when she was to come all beverages served to her would be contain the poison that Moriarty handed to the Head Chef. They said that if we talked we would be tortured and killed. The same with our families. What were we to do!"

"Go on."

"So a couple hours had passed and then the manager came in and I saw him talk to the Head Chef. Chef looked close to tears and he put some of the poison into a pot of tea that he gave to one of our waiters. I think for that Irene lady."

"Do you know what happened after."

"You see sir, I've always been naturally curious and so I needed to see what would happen next. I went to one of the door windows and peaked out at the restaurant. The waiter served the tea to this real pretty woman."

"Brown curls?"

"Yup, and fair skin. But I couldn't really see the front of her. Anyways, all of a sudden I hear this tapping on a glass from the other side of the restaurant and almost everybody gets up and leaves."

"Who stayed?"

"Irene did and I knew Moriarty was at the table next to her, because I could tell she was talking to someone. By the way she was turning and I could see her jaw moving. Then all of a sudden she gets up and starts walking towards the door. But she stumbles down to the ground and starts coughing and I think I saw some blood." The man stops and shivers.

"Do continue."

"Moriarty he gets up and goes over to the women and he took something from her. A...a handkerchief, he wiped her mouth with it, and then just took it and left. I'm just about to look away when I see this other man come towards Irene and scoop her up in his arms."

"This man what did he look like? Was Irene alive?"

"Heavy build, brown hair, a beard. As for the woman, I don't know, I couldn't tell."

Holmes said nothing he just continued to fiddle with his gun and then slapped the man again.

"What the H-"

"My apologies! That was not meant for you! Thank you for your time and don't speak of this to anybody or else I will have a slap that is meant for you and much more. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"On your mothers life?"

"She's dead."

"On your mothers grave?"

"Yes."

"Very well, when I untie you run as fast as you can and don't look back! Then maybe, I will spare you your life."

The man didn't need telling twice.

**What will Sherlock make of this new information? You'll have to wait and see. But really I can't get over SH2! When I saw it again tonight I saw Watson's face again when Holmes plummeted down with Moriarty. His face with the sad piano music equaled a depressed me who just wanted to give Watson a hug. **


End file.
